“A hippie is someone who looks like Tarzan, walks like Jane and smells like Cheetah.”

I have to interrupt right here and tell you that on one of my visits — I won’t name him, I don’t want to embarrass him,- but one of the heads of state that I met with on this visit, he gave me one while I was on the way. He told me a story about the two fellas in the Soviet Union who were walking down the street. And one of them said, “Have we really achieved full Communism? Is this it? Is this now full Communism?” and the other one said, “Hell no, things are going to get a lot worse.”

Which makes me think of a story… Everything makes me think of a story. … about three dogs: an American dog, a Polish dog and a Russian dog. They are all having a visit, and the American dog was telling them how things were in his country. He said, “You know, you bark… after you bark long enough, then somebody comes along, gives you some meat.” And the polish dog said, “What’s meat?” And the Russian dog says, “What’s bark?”

I heard one about a fellow who went to the KGB to report that he lost his parrot. The KGB asked him why he was bothering them. Why didn’t he just report it to the local police. “Well,” he answered, “I just wanted you to know that I don’t agree with a thing my parrot has to say.”

One of the recent ones that I heard was about the man walking along the street at night, Moscow, Soviet soldier called to him to halt, he started to run, the soldier shot him. Another man said, “Why did you do that?” “Well,” he said, “Curfew.” “Well,” he said, “It isn’t curfew yet.” “I know, he is a friend of mine. I know where he lives. He couldn’t have made it.”